


does your heart ache when you get around me?

by glasseslouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Anxiety, Bottom Louis, Harry Paints His Nails, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Mental Instability, Recreational Drug Use, Sad Louis, Sad Zayn, Shower Sex, Smut, Yikes, Zayn Leaves One Direction, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, but he still tops, louis loves zayn a lot, matt lauer is a dick, mostly this is just sad bro stuff, read this when emo, side Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, zayn makes bad decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasseslouis/pseuds/glasseslouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn makes international headlines after leaving one direction. louis doesn't want to talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	does your heart ache when you get around me?

**Author's Note:**

> zouis is my life ok im still not over it all.
> 
> title is from "i couldn't be your friend" by tegan and sara.

“I’m going to quit.” Zayn’s voice came out soft, almost lost amidst the clouds of smoke choking out the oxygen in the back of their van.

“Ha ha.” Louis said, his voice deadpan against what Zayn had said. They’d all joked about quitting the band before; this wasn’t any different.

He and Zayn hadn’t spent much time in the Mystery Machine in a while, but when Zayn offered to match up with him after their show, Louis wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity for nearly anything. Zayn was his absolute best friend, next to Harry and his mum.

“Lou, I’m serious.” Zayn tried again, almost pleading now. “I- I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Louis felt his heart pound against his ribcage – slow from the drugs, but hard from sudden anxiety. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Zayn had become disenchanted by their careers, but they had plans to help that. A hiatus after they finished their tour, a whole year for themselves to get their heads straightened back out after five years of nonstop chaos, a new album that they could create almost exclusively on their own, a break in the monotony of it all.

“Me neither,” he said without thinking. He always agreed with what Zayn said, and there was some truth to it. He was tired of hiding who he was, of crouching in the shadows with Harry. He ached for their break to begin, to lie in bed without having to answer to an alarm, to kiss Harry whenever he pleased, and to go on holiday with Zayn like they’d always tried to do years ago but never had the time for.

“Really?” Louis felt Zayn sit up. “You want to quit too?”

Louis felt something in his chest squeeze. Did he? He craned his neck to look for Zayn’s red tinted eyes from where he was laying down. He tried to think about what life would be like without One Direction. It was hard – he didn’t know anything but growing up and being in a boy band. Surely, he wouldn’t move back into his mum’s home and have her take care of him. He was a man now, or something. He’d live on his own, or with Harry. Would Harry be upset with him if he quit? Would they break up? Would he work another job? That sounded like an awful lot of questions to Louis at the moment.

“No,” he decided. “I don’t. But sometimes I think about it, like, how it would be different.”

“Oh.” Zayn laid back down, the tops of their heads pressing together.

“We’re so close, Z. Not even a year left if you don’t count the breaks we already have scheduled. Then we have an entire 18 months to do whatever we like.”

Something in that moment shifted and crumbled, like Louis had pulled out the last block in Zayn’s Jenga tower.  
“I’m not waiting another year,” he said. “I can’t do this anymore, Louis. It’s not real to me.  
I… I wake up every day, and I get high for the rest of the day if I can manage it. I- I’m not living like a person should. None of this is going to matter to me in ten years if I keep going like this. I- it has to stop sometime. For all of us.”

Louis felt a chill snake up his spine, despite the hot, humid air in the Mystery Machine. “Zayn-” he said, sitting up and feeling his throat tighten up around his words. “What are you talking about?”

He knew what Zayn was talking about, exactly what he was saying, the whole lot of it. He’d said it all before, usually under a combination of influences, sitting on Louis’ lap at the end of the night because he couldn’t hold himself up. Louis just couldn’t bear to believe that it would really happen. He was holding the situation at arm’s length; it wouldn’t become reality to him until it actually happened. Until Zayn walked out the door without looking back, Louis refused to believe that their life together as he knew it was over.

“I’m talking about leaving, Louis. I- I’m breaking my contract. They’re trying to get me to stay, they want me to take a break during album promo and come back for the tour, but I- I’m not. I’ll do what they want me to, but I’m not going to come back, Louis. I can’t.”

“Surely you will,” Louis laughed hollowly. Was he hallucinating? Maybe he should stop trusting Oli to get his weed. There was probably something funny laced in with what he’d smoked. “This- this is what we do, Zayn, innit? You can’t just- that wasn’t ever in the plans. You know it wasn’t. J-just- we can go to the doctor’s or something, maybe they can help you in the head. Harry likes his therapist, maybe you can talk to her too.” His stomach started to hurt, and he was afraid he might be sick.

“Louis, it’s already done. No doctors, no nothing. I’m not flying with you all to Florida in November. That’s when it starts.” Zayn’s voice was quiet, and Louis felt his blood go cold.

“Please, Zayn-” Louis spluttered. “Y-you can’t just… You can’t.” November was three weeks away. That wasn’t enough time.

“You could quit too, you know,” Zayn whispered. “What they do to you and Harry is fucked up, Louis. Quit and sue them.”

Louis hesitated, feeling himself steel against the suggestion. Zayn wasn’t wrong – the job came with a lot of bullshit, and Louis had cried on Zayn’s shoulder too many times not to acknowledge that. But he still loved it all, being in One Direction. He loved being on stage, meeting fans, getting the opportunities they got to meet football players and give back to charity and make people feel good with the music they made. Wasn’t that worth anything to Zayn?

Moreover, Louis was terrified. Getting into One Direction meant that Louis was actually important. He’d grown up skating by, not worried about Uni or the future until it was looming over him, and he’d realized just how small he was in the world. Going on the X Factor had been a last ditch effort to convince himself that he was worth an iota of anyone’s time, and it had landed him here. Louis wasn’t ready for that to stop – as selfish as it sounded.

“I couldn’t do that,” he said. “I don’t want to quit.” He found Zayn’s eyes in the dim light.

“Okay,” Zayn said, but Louis could see the disappointment behind his eyes.

Louis laid back down on the rough carpet of the van. It scratched the backs of his arms. “When are you telling the other boys?”

“They already know.”

Louis felt himself go stony at that. Instantly, he was taken back to a memory from the very start of the career, back in the X Factor house.

Zayn was crouched in front of him on the carpet in their room. Dirty clothes were scattered around the floor, and the room had a bit of a weird smell to it. All the beds were unmade – save Liam’s, bless him – but they were alone. Louis was sitting on his feet, feeling his heels dig into his backside.

“Do you like blokes, Louis?” Zayn had asked gently, thick lashes fluttering when Louis saw his eyes move.

“Wh-what?” Louis had stammered, feeling something clutch at his throat. He was in that early-on stage where every boy was beautiful to him, where he’d happily snog the first male who’d let him, and Zayn, being gorgeous, was two-fold of each. It was hard to concentrate, looking at him dead-on like this. He was terrified of being caught, though, and even more scared of having Zayn think he was weird.

“Do you fancy boys?” Zayn’s voice was kind and patient, and Louis felt his stomach turn.

There was a thick moment of silence before Louis nodded. Zayn smiled and ducked his head.

“Have you kissed another boy before?”

Louis shook his head. He hadn’t, though he’d thought about it a lot.

“You can kiss me, if you’d like.”

Louis hesitated for a moment; was Zayn playing a prank on him? “I don’t…” he started.

“’S okay, Lou. I’ve done it before.”

Louis held back for just a split second longer before leaning in and pressing his lips against Zayn’s. His mouth was soft and tasted warm, like Christmas cocoa. Louis leaned back, feeling his spine hit the bunk behind him, and Zayn followed, covering Louis with what his small, thin frame could manage. The kiss got a little deeper, tongues sliding into mouths and searching for something. Their teeth clicked a few times, but Louis chalked it up to lack of practice. He grabbed at Zayn’s t-shirt, and he felt a hand stroke his side.

They ended up properly snogging, with Louis on his back on the floor while Zayn pulled at his long, soft fringe, and Louis figured he should feel ashamed since he had a girlfriend of sorts at home, but he didn’t.

“You won’t tell anybody, right?” Louis said softly, once they were finished. “That I fancy boys?”

“No, Lou,” Zayn had laughed. “Secret’s safe with me. Love you, Lou.”

Zayn had been the first to know everything from that moment on. Louis called him at four in the morning when X Factor had just finished and they were all home for Christmas, sobbing because he’d figured out that he was in love with Harry. Zayn knew when Louis met his mum’s new boyfriend and hated him, and Zayn knew when Louis begrudgingly began to like his mum’s new boyfriend. He knew about Louis’ sisters, and he knew when Louis had the opportunity to play football for charity. He knew Louis’ deepest fears and darkest secrets, like when Louis hated his body just a little too much and stopped eating for a touch, or how his world practically crumbled when the absolute Shakespearian tragedy of Harry and Taylor Swift met the rest of the world.

And as far as Louis knew, he’d received the same courtesy. Louis knew what every single one of Zayn’s tattoos meant, and how Zayn sometimes wished Liam’s heart were in a different place when he thought about him, and what it was like growing up Muslim in Yorkshire. He saw how Zayn internalized casual racism, laughed it off, even repeated some of it. He knew everything about Zayn – his favorite color to his least favorite food, whether he slept with the fan on or off, how he smelled after a show or a workout. He knew his burdens and his hopes. But he was last to know that Zayn was leaving. As if it just didn’t come up in conversation.

Louis wanted to storm out, maybe throw a classic Tomlinson tantrum, tell Zayn exactly how angry he was and why, but he couldn’t. He had three weeks left with Zayn. He didn’t want to fight.

They laid there in the van, and Louis wondered if the sound of his heart breaking was loud enough to convince Zayn to stay.

\---

“Is it something more serious than just a minor illness? There have been rumors of substance abuse. What's going on?"

Louis instinctively felt his fingers dig into his thigh; he was thankful that the question had been directed at Liam, not him, as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold his tongue. Louis wasn’t sure who the interviewer even was, just someone from American television who clearly thought his investigative journalism career hadn’t yet been fulfilled.

"No, he's just got a stomach bug. He's okay. He's just at home. He just needs to rest. He's okay."

Louis relaxed slightly; when he’d heard that the story was that Zayn had food poisoning, he’d felt a little dirty. He’d done a lot of lying for the band over the years, but never for another member, except maybe Harry, indirectly speaking. He tried to convince himself that the rest would be good for Zayn. Maybe he’d feel good enough after his own break to keep going.

They finished out the interview with no more major bumps or bruises; Louis wanted to focus on the positive. They had their album out today, and Louis really, really liked this one. He and Liam had worked their arses off to write something they were proud of, and it had actually worked. It sounded like adult music, not the kids’ stuff they’d put out at first. They even got to perform a couple of songs from it for the Today Show – though Louis still didn’t think that interviewer deserved the screen time and publicity that their performance was giving him – and Louis felt happy about it, for the most part. Just a little naked without Zayn. They had a full day ahead of them, between shooting a roller coaster interview and the rest of the NBC Christmas special with the fans, as well as speaking with the press, but Louis still found time between it all to give Zayn a quick call. They were having lunch, and Louis took a couple of bites out of his sandwich, stole one of Harry’s chips, and ducked into a corner.

The phone rang five times before Zayn finally picked up. “Hullo?”

“Z?” Louis said, scrunching his eyebrows together. It was only noon in Florida, so Zayn should have been up. Though it wouldn’t have been the first time that Zayn slept in past five in the afternoon. “Did I wake you up?”

“Oh, uh- sort of. It’s- no, you didn’t. What’s up?” Zayn’s voice was fuzzy, but he didn’t sound sleepy.

“Were you shagging Perrie or summat?” Louis pressed further. “I don’t wanna interrupt.”

“No, Perrie’s not here,” Zayn said. “What’s going on, babe?”

“Oh-” Louis said. Zayn always had his phone on him. What would have taken him so long to answer? They’d talked on the phone while Zayn was taking a shit before. “I, uh, just wanted to tell you our performance went good. It sounds like people have really been liking the album, too. I saw on Twitter that one of the fans said that your voice in ‘18’ was like, liquid gold or summat. _The Guardian_ gave us a really good review, too. Have you seen any of it?”

Louis heard Zayn take a breath to answer, but before he could speak, the phone picked up another voice.

“Oi, what’s taking you so long, Malik?”

Louis scowled. “Who was that?”

Again, Zayn took a breath to answer, like the words were taxing to him. “Uh- Shahid’s over at my house. He wanted to hang out; I figured I had nothing better to do. And, uh, no. I haven’t seen any of the stuff about the album. I thought it’d be better if I laid low, y’know, stuck to the story.”

Louis felt his blood boil. “Nothing better to do?” He repeated, voice pitched a little high. “You had a job to do in America, Zayn. That’s something better to do.”

“Louis…” Zayn tried. “You know what I meant.”

“Right,” Louis’ voice sharpened. “Of course I did. Give Shahid my warmest fucking wishes. Bye, Zayn.”

He hung up the phone and finished his sandwich and Harry’s chips without a word to the others.

Later that night, after they’d finished work, Louis was lying next to Harry on their hotel bed. Liam and Niall had been over earlier to eat and play FIFA, which was weird. Louis couldn’t remember them all hanging out after a gig by choice for years. It wasn’t like they didn’t like each other. They just had separate lives, and the chance to be alone was a scarce one, so they weren’t typically passed up. Louis didn’t want to say it, but he thought they were all feeling Zayn’s absence a little more than any of them cared to admit.

Louis rolled over and watched Harry play with a bottle of red nail varnish, painting his thumbnail over and over again just to wipe it off with a tissue.

“You should leave it on, if you like it,” Louis said softly.

“You think?” Harry said, holding his thumb out to look at. Louis caught his hand and kissed the inside of Harry’s wrist.

“Yes.”

They were quiet again as Harry painted his nails and waited for them to dry.

“Can I do yours?” Harry said, holding up a bottle of clear polish. Louis nodded, sticking out his right hand unceremoniously and resting it on Harry’s thigh. Harry bent over to focus on what he was doing, carefully stroking the little brush over Louis’ stubby nails, taking care to miss his flaky, peeling cuticles.

“Why have you been biting your nails again?” Harry said to Louis’ hand. Louis closed his eyes.

“Dunno.”

Harry huffed a little, clearly over Louis’ apathy. “You know we’ve been tiptoeing around this all day, Louis. We know you miss him. That’s okay, you know. We miss him too, and like, that’s okay too. We all love him. It’s not like this is what any of us ever planned on. Even him.”

Louis wiggled his foot, feeling the anxiety rise in his chest. Harry was missing the point. “He was with Shahid, Harry. I don’t like it. I don’t care that Zayn’s not here – you can say his name, by the way, he’s not Voldemort – but I care that Shahid is there. I get bad vibes off him.”

“Louis…” Harry said carefully, trying to tread lightly. “You know Zayn’s allowed to have other friends besides you, right? Besides us?”

Louis sat up, squinting at Harry. “You lot think I’m jealous, don’t you? God forbid I care about the standards, the motives, of the people that my best friends hang out with on their own time. You’re being an arsehole right now.”

“C’mon, Lou. You’re protective by instinct, but even you’ve admitted that you’ve got a touch of jealousy in you. I’m not trying to upset you, just want you to think it through completely before you say something to him that you’ll regret later on.”

Louis said nothing, too stubborn to admit that Harry was right while also being too tired to fight what he was saying.

“Just have a little faith in Zayn, yeah? He knows what’s best for him right now.” Harry went back to painting Louis’ little nails with the clear polish, and Louis stared at the ceiling fan as it spun. He trusted Zayn. He just didn’t trust everyone around Zayn.

Later that night, after Harry had fucked him long and slow and deep in the shower in an effort to make Louis forget for a moment, Louis watched Harry rub lotion on his long, spidery legs, and when he saw that Zayn was calling him on the phone, he put the call on silent and curled up into bed with his boyfriend.

\---

Louis knew it was kind of an unspoken rule that they all had to spend their birthdays with each other, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

In years past, Zayn’s birthday always meant doing something low key. Zayn never liked big parties, said they harped on his anxiety, so they’d usually do something like rent out a movie theater and have private screenings of superhero movies, or take spontaneous vacations out to exotic cities for only a day, or set him up for a surprise date with Perrie and his family.

This year, someone decided to do the complete opposite, though, and Louis couldn’t quite wrap his head around it all.

They – meaning Louis, Liam, Harry, and Niall, along with Sophia and Niall’s friend Melissa – were at a nightclub with Shahid and company. C-list celebrities that Louis had trouble recognizing kept coming up to them for a handshake; bolder ones flirted with them directly. A few of Zayn’s friends from home, as well as some of his sisters and cousins were there, but it wasn’t really enough to balance out the crowd.

As they waited for Zayn to show up, Louis couldn’t help but wonder if these people actually knew Zayn like they claimed they did when they introduced themselves. How had there been an entire facet of Zayn’s life that Louis didn’t even know?

Harry kissed the top of his head and moved out of their booth to go grab a few more drinks for him and Louis, and Liam and Niall took their dates out onto the dance floor, leaving Louis without a wall to protect him. Whether it was coincidence or Shahid had some kind of radar implanted in Louis’ back, Louis did not know, but in that moment, Shahid came up to their table and seated himself.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, holding out a sweaty palm for Louis to shake. Louis did so reluctantly.

“Of course,” Louis said stiffly. Where was Harry with his slow, syrupy voice? Surely he could talk to Shahid long enough and eat up all the time until Zayn got there. “Anything for Zayn.”

“Yeah,” Shahid laughed. “He’s a great guy, really talented, really cool.”

He’s more than that, Louis wanted to scream. _He’s intelligent and good at art and a huge fucking nerd. He’s my best friend, not yours, so find your own._

“Right,” was what he went with instead.

There was an awkward silence for a beat and a half until Harry showed up, somehow clutching four shot glasses and a Coke in his gigantic hands.

“Hullo,” he nodded at Shahid, passing the shot and the Coke to Louis.

“Ah, Harry Styles!” Shahid said, reaching across the table to clap Harry on the back. Louis pinched his thigh to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Er- hey,” Harry nodded, going to fiddle with his rings. Nervous habit; Louis could spot that from ten miles away.

“Zayn talks a lot about you. Great to finally meet you in person.” Shahid sipped on his drink. It looked like it was mostly melted ice now, and Louis would have made a smart comment about Shahid not being able to afford another drink if he wasn’t already distraught.

“Zayn talks a lot about Harry?” Louis said, straining really hard to hide the stress in his voice. “Just Harry?”

“Well, he talks about all of you I suppose, but Harry’s definitely a popular topic of conversation,” Shahid said, and Louis swore his eyes were glittering like a snake’s.

“Interesting,” Louis said at the same time Harry said, “all good things, I hope.”

Louis thought everyone should be talking about Harry all the time, of course. He was a wonderful person, and devastatingly attractive, not to mention that he was very smart and kind and talented in general. But Zayn should be talking about him. Zayn should tell the people that he hung out with who his best best friend was, shouldn’t he? Louis was constantly telling the people in his life about the things that Zayn said or did.

The club booth’s bench vibrated, and Shahid shifted, pulling out his phone. “Sorry, that’d be Zayn. He’s here. Enjoy the party, lads.”

Louis watched Shahid’s tacky Nike track jacket recede into the crowd, sulking a little.

“Zayn doesn’t even like clubs.”

Louis remembered a night nearly three years ago. They’d just gotten the word that _Take Me Home_ went number one in America. Harry was visiting home, and Niall was celebrating a friend’s birthday, but Liam, Zayn, and Louis all wanted to celebrate. Somehow, Liam and Louis convinced Zayn to come out to a club with them, and at first, it had been okay. Zayn drank a lot, but between the bright lights and all of the fizzy drinks that Louis himself had, it had gone unnoticed.

It wasn’t until Louis was dancing with Liam, laughing ridiculously loudly as he pushed his arse into Liam’s crotch, relishing in how Liam blushed, that he realized Zayn was nowhere to be found. He did laps around the club, anxious to relocate him until he had the sense to check the bathrooms.

Zayn was locked in one of the stalls, sitting on the dirty floor and shaking. Louis crawled under the open bottom and instantly, Zayn clung to him. Louis could feel his heart pounding. “What’s wrong?” Louis had slurred, sloppily pushing Zayn’s hair off of his forehead.

“P-panic attack. C-couldn’t breathe. Love you, L-Lou,” Zayn said, burying himself in Louis’ shoulder, and suddenly, it all made sense. Zayn was always the worst when fans would crowd them for a photo, always got flighty and shaky when they had to stay in a shop or a hotel because girls were banging on the glass windows. He didn’t like crowds. A packed club was hardly any different. So, they called a car, and security found Liam, and they celebrated with Jaffa Cakes and tea and the Spiderman trilogy on Louis and Harry’s sofa instead.

Louis zoned back in when Liam, Niall, and the girls returned to their table, swallowing the bitter shot Harry had bought for him and glaring at Zayn’s back, mostly because Shahid’s sweaty palm was leading him towards some girls on the dance floor, touching the same spot that Louis had rubbed on the floor of that club bathroom such a long time ago.

He wanted to call out to Zayn, tell him to stop and to come over to their table and hang out with them, but Niall pushed another shot into his fist, and Zayn looked like he was enjoying himself anyway.

\---

A few weeks later, Louis rolled over in the big, fluffy hotel bed on Dooms Day to see Harry filling out a crossword in the newspaper. He almost smiled before he caught the date of the paper in the top corner. 25 March, 2015. His stomach turned.

“What clue are you stuck on?” He mumbled, trying to iron out the wrinkles in his thoughts.

Harry looked over at him, lifting a tweezed eyebrow. “Amigo,” he said, voice still hoarse from sleep. “Eight letters. Ends with a K.”

Louis thought for a moment, leaning over Harry to steal a sip of his coffee. “Ugh,” he grunted, immediately replacing the mug. Coffee, especially without sweetener, was of the devil. Harry was doing some weird diet trick, mixing coconut oil in it, and it was probably the worst thing Louis'd ever tasted. He placed his head on Harry’s stomach and glanced at the paper. “Sidekick,” he said. “Eight letters. Ends with a K.”

Harry nodded, looking at Louis for a second too long before going to write the answer in without question. Usually, he’d debate with Louis for as long as either one of them could stand it; he didn’t trust Louis’ mind with word games after one too many rounds of airplane Scrabble. Almost immediately, Louis figured out what was going on.

“If you think I’m going to lose it or something because today’s the day, then don’t. I don’t care.” He licked his lips and slid off of Harry’s stomach. “It’s like he’s already gone, anyway.”

It hurt to say, but it was true. Zayn had dropped out of tour early, and Louis didn’t even get to see him when they had off time, because – big surprise here – Zayn was always with Shahid and his “crew.” The Mystery Machine sat empty, even though Louis still had it dragged around with them everywhere they went, and Louis hadn’t seen a Marvel movie in weeks. When Zayn was obligated to show up at gigs, he barely spoke to Louis, choosing to hang out with Niall or play on his phone until his time was up.

It made Louis’ chest ache with something he’d never felt before.

He pulled his phone off the charger by means of distraction and scrolled through his notifications. One missed call from Mum, two FaceTime requests from Lottie, an iMessage from Liam of a link to some funny dog picture, and a couple of emails – one coupon from TopMan, one from Sony about album sales, and three from his Nan, who just figured out how to send emails on her phone. He opened Facebook without thinking, and there, at the top of his newsfeed, was the statement.

“After five incredible years Zayn Malik has decided to leave One Direction. Niall, Harry, Liam and Louis will continue as a four-piece and look forward to the forthcoming concerts of their world tour and recording their fifth album, due to be released later this year.”

He felt his heart creep up into his throat, but he didn’t stop reading.

“Zayn says: ‘My life with One Direction has been more than I could ever have imagined. But, after five years, I feel like it is now the right time for me to leave the band. I'd like to apologise to the fans if I've let anyone down, but I have to do what feels right in my heart. I am leaving because I want to be a normal 22-year-old who is able to relax and have some private time out of the spotlight. I know I have four friends for life in Louis, Liam, Harry and Niall. I know they will continue to be the best band in the world.’”

Louis wished he could scream.

“One Direction say: ‘We're really sad to see Zayn go, but we totally respect his decision and send him all our love for the future. The past five years have been beyond amazing, we've gone through so much together, so we will always be friends. The four of us will now continue. We're looking forward to recording the new album and seeing all the fans on the next stage of the world tour.’”

Louis wanted to know which intern was gifted with the task of crafting the release. Had they cried, like the fans in the comments were? Or did they feel important, delivering the newest shot heard ‘round the world? Did they think of how Louis and the rest of the boys felt, having words put in their mouth? Because Louis didn’t ever recall saying that he respected Zayn’s decision.

He didn’t. It was cowardly, in his opinion. Weak. It made Louis angry. He wished he could kick something, but he didn’t. He just rolled out of bed and forced his legs to carry him to the en-suite bathroom for a shower.

Louis rubbed shampoo into his hair, glaring at the shower tiles. He remembered two years ago now, when he and Zayn had sat up in Zayn’s hotel room playing drinking games with the bad movies available on the hotel cable, sleep schedules turned completely upside down from all the travel. Zayn had gotten too drunk, and they were scheduled to leave for an appearance in a few hours, so Louis had dragged him into the hotel shower to sober him up. Zayn had thought it was the funniest thing in the world to have Louis wash his hair while he just slumped against the wall, talking.

“I love you,” he kept giggling. “I love Harry, and Niall, and I really love Liam. I love Liam the most, but that’s because I want to _kiss_ Liam. You’re my favorite though, Louis. Because you don’t make me want to kiss you. You’re just my best friend. Well, we did snog once. But that didn’t count, ‘cuz I was helping you out. But you’d do anything for me, right, Lou? We’d do anything for each other.”

Louis had nodded, rubbing his fingertips into Zayn’s scalp. Why he thought a shampoo would sober Zayn up, he wasn’t sure. He was just willing to try anything, at that point. “Of course I’d do anything for you, Z. I’m doing something for you right now.”

“Right,” Zayn giggled. “I forgot.”

Louis tipped Zayn’s head back under the spray of the shower before rubbing conditioner over his head and letting it sit, resting on the edge of the tub to catch his breath.

“You’re a mess, Z,” Louis had said. “Love you too, though.”

Zayn had given a happy little snort at that, sputtering as he tried to wash the conditioner out of his hair himself and ended up sticking his face under the water at the wrong angle and getting it up his nose.

As Louis rubbed the shampoo out of his hair now, he couldn’t help but wonder if Zayn remembered anything from that night. Or from the last five years’ worth of nights. Louis had begged for him to stay to the point of wearing his dignity thin since October, but Zayn had refused to listen. And now the day that Louis was so terrified of was finally here. Zayn would never bunk with him in Bus 1, they’d never marathon another television series together, and Louis would never pick out the red gummy bears from the packet because they were his favorite and because Zayn hated them. It was a page of history now instead of Louis’ life, and it felt surreal.

\---

He felt numb about the whole thing for as long as he could, which was only about a month in the grand scheme of things.

Twitter had always been a great tool for Louis to fulfill his life’s biggest regrets, and he’d taken to it to drop a few biting remarks here and there, mostly aimed at Shahid. He couldn’t stand the guy; when Zayn had been photographed at a studio with him, Louis had gone downstairs and broken all of the dessert plates in his and Harry’s L.A. house. Shahid was eating it up, too. His follower count had grown exponentially since Zayn had left, and the guy was practically bathing in the newfound attention. Louis couldn’t stand to see Zayn with someone else to begin with, but to see that someone else blatantly using him was another story.

So, when Shahid decided to tweet a photo of him and Zayn with the caption, “Replace this!” Louis didn’t really feel like holding himself back anymore.

@Louis_Tomlinson: 11:41 AM – 6 May 2015  
Remember when you were 12 and you used to think those Mac filters for your pictures were cool haha ! Some people still do HA!

It wasn’t the most creative of digs, but it was just snarky enough to satisfy the particular itching under his skin. He heard Harry’s phone go off on the bathroom counter from where he was sitting in bed, and 15 seconds later, almost on cue, Harry came out of the bathroom wearing a towel hat over his wet hair and worried frown.

“Lou…” he warned, eyebrows puckering. “Is this really the impression you want to leave on everyone? On Zayn?”

“Yes, Mum” Louis said evenly. “Don’t worry about me. It’s not like either of them will actually reply.”

As he closed his mouth, his phone buzzed with a notification from Twitter. Oh.

@NaughtyBoyMusic  
@NaughtyBoyMusic: 11:55 AM – 6 May 2015  
@Louis_Tomlinson and some people can't even sing.. but who's complaining when there's auto tune eh

Louis felt his blood pressure spike to a worrying level; Harry checked his phone, probably clued in by the steam that had to have been shooting from Louis’ ears, and stifled a gasp.

“You don’t have to answer that, Lou,” he started, clearly trying to break through as a voice of reason before Louis inevitably said something he’d regret. “He’s already shown the world how bad of a person he is just by saying that. You don’t have to say anything to prove it. It’s good to be the bigger person, you know?” He sat down next to Louis on the bed and tugged at the cuff of his sweatpants. “Lou, listen to me.”

Louis wasn’t going to bother listening, though. He was busy typing out a response. Being the bigger person was for letting someone else have the last slice of cake or giving up your favorite toy during recess in primary school. This was different.

@Louis_Tomlinson: 12:17 – 6 May 2015  
@NaughtyBoyMusic Jesus forgot you were such an in demand producer .... How does it feel to be riding on the back of someone else's career ?

As he hit send, he wondered if Zayn was seeing what was being posted. Was he with Shahid? He couldn’t possibly be. Zayn knew how self-conscious Louis was about his voice, about how he fit in musically with the other boys, about his solos or lack thereof. Zayn would have stopped Shahid from posting that, and now that it was live for the world to see, he’d surely come online and defend him. They’d texted a handful of times since Zayn had left, and although it had been awkward, at least Louis had got to talk to him. Zayn didn’t hate him. They just weren’t as close as they used to be. Louis was about to tell Harry this, maybe get his thoughts on it, when his phone buzzed again.  
It was Zayn.

But instead of the words of defense and support that Louis had been anticipating, no – _expecting_ , Louis only found a simple sentence.

@zaynmalik: 12:18 PM – 6 May 2015  
@Louis_Tomlinson remember when you had a life and stopped making bitchy comments about mine ?

Louis stiffened, feeling his whole body flush red. He read the tweet six times over, making absolutely sure that he wasn’t hallucinating, feeling his eyes well up when he realized it was real.

Everything he’d been numb to in the last month – fuck, the last seven months – came rushing to the surface, and Louis felt his spine curl into a parenthesis. One ugly, ugly sob cracked the silence in the room, and instantly, he felt the bed creak with Harry’s weight as he joined him. A big palm rubbed his back through his t-shirt, but it burned.

“God, Harry, g-get off!” Louis shrieked into his hands. His mind was coming apart at the seams, and he felt sick. His best friend was gone. It was like Zayn was dead, but it was much, much worse, because he was there and breathing and living and actively hating Louis, and it made Louis feel disgusting. Tears ran down his cheeks and slipped through his fingers to splatter onto his grey trackies; he couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t even what Zayn said that bothered Louis so much; it was a weak retort, if Louis was being objective. No, it’s what he didn’t say. It was the fact that Zayn didn’t defend him or his voice. It was the fact that Zayn hadn’t texted him in two weeks and change. It was the fact that before he even left, he didn’t want to see him.

“Wh-why did he t-tell me l-l-last?” Louis hiccupped, feeling his eyelashes stick together as he went headfirst into Harry’s chest, despite telling him to fuck off not five minutes ago. “Why d-did I h-have to kn-know last?”

Harry was quiet for a moment, letting Louis wring out the sobs he’d been soaking up for the past half-year. He used his sleeve to press into Louis’ flushed cheeks, absorbing the tears. “He told me first, actually,” he said, voice low in his throat. Louis looked up at him, watery eyes narrowed.

“Y-y’know, the point isn’t to make me feel worse, here,” he said, and Harry gave him a humorless smile.

“I know, Lou.” He closed his eyes. “He called me, when you and I had come out to L.A. for a weekend. You were still asleep; he’d called so early.” Louis sniffled, trying to quiet down to listen to what Harry had to say. “He- he wasn’t enjoying it anymore, Louis. It was like going on a Disney World ride, but someone’s ripped down all the pretty decorations, so all you see is speakers and wires, and you realize how fake it all is. I know we’ve all felt that at some point before, but he-” Harry hesitated, “he couldn’t see past it to understand why it’s worth putting up with.”

Louis looked up at Harry, at the delicate, purple circles underneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and wondered how he was only twenty-one. He shouldered the wisdom of Louis’ elders and the strength of Louis’ parents; it was like Harry was born a hundred years ago. Louis felt immature at best next to him.

“When he told me, I- I was angry, Lou. That’s the day I disappeared without telling you, because I couldn’t even speak without wanting to scream at someone. I just drove around the city for ages. I felt like he was turning his back on us, and maybe he still is, but what I’m trying to tell you is that time will placate everything you’re feeling.” He pulled the towel off of his head and ran his fingers through his long, damp, tangled hair. “He made me swear not to tell you, Lou. He was so scared you’d convince him to stay. And he would have done it for you, I know he would have. He loves you, Lou.”

Louis scoffed weakly, scrunching himself to try to fit better in Harry’s hold. “People who love you don’t let other people publicly embarrass you for the world to see.”

“I know, Lou, but think about it. It’s just like how he took all of the One Direction stuff out of his social media profiles. He’s distancing himself from us, from you. I’m not saying it’s right, or that it’s fair, but it’s what he’s doing. But he’ll come around. Maybe he doesn’t work with us anymore, but you have a friendship that’s built to last. One leak in the boat isn’t going to cause it to sink.”

“Tell that to the Titanic,” Louis muttered, but on some level, he craved to believe Harry’s words. Zayn loved him, and Louis loved Zayn. How had they let someone else change that?

“You know I used to get jealous of Zayn?” Harry murmured, poking Louis in the ribs gently. “Because you could see it, when you’d look at him and your eyes would just light up, and he’d do the same. I used to drive Niall crazy, ‘cause I’d always try to force him to find out if Zayn had a crush on you.”

“You did not,” Louis laughed softly. He was all congested after his extreme snot fest. “Everybody knew since Day One that I was obsessed with you.”

“I did! Swear. Scout’s honor.” Harry put a hand up. “Me and Liam used to sulk together whenever you two would sit next to each other on a plane ride, ‘cause I wanted to be next to you, and Liam wanted to be next to Zayn. We were a pair of big babies, I swear it.”

“My big baby,” Louis murmured, cuddling up to Harry and resting his head on his chest. “Thank you, H.”

It wasn’t fixed. Louis was still upset. But he felt exhausted and emotionally drained and cried out, so it could all be dealt with after a nap.

\---

“Fuck, Harry-” Louis threw his head back, grinding his arse down harder onto Harry’s hipbones, feeling his cock dig up inside of him. His palms were flat against the wall, Harry was clutching his hips hard, and Louis was decidedly not dealing with it.

After Zayn had posted that tweet back in May, communication with him had completely dropped off. Louis stopped making an effort to understand why Zayn had chosen a D-list producer over his best friend of five years. He had a career to focus on.

The four remaining boys had all sat down together in the wake of the drama, and Louis would never forget the fear on each of their individual faces when Liam asked the heavy question – should they break up too?

It was clear going forward that they all wanted this desperately, just as much as they had back in 2010, and they were determined to make it work. They threw themselves into everything they had, their work and their hobbies and their relationships. Louis had never been happier with Harry; there was talk of him and Harry getting to interact more publicly towards the release of the fifth album, which they were hard at work making during their tour.

The wounds still hurt as if they were fresh, but Louis was learning every day that they made for good writing. He was churning out songs that he’d never been prouder of, and most of them were about Zayn, but nobody except Harry and maybe Julian had to know that.

Louis cried out, feeling his muscles tense up before he came on Harry’s stomach, dotting the laurel leaf tattoos with white. Harry followed quickly, and Louis rolled off of him, feeling sweaty and very out of breath. Objectively, life was great. He was getting laid on the regular in high society hotels of exotic countries, and he loved his work and was loved back by millions of people. But one was still missing, and Louis wasn’t quite sure what that all meant for him.

He let Harry wipe down his legs and body with a cool flannel when his phone began to ring; it was an unsaved number.

“Hello?” Louis said, wary of who could be on the other end of the line.

“L-Louis?” Perrie Edwards’ voice rang through the phone, making Louis sit straight up and nearly brain Harry.

“Perrie? It’s me. Is everything okay? Are you crying?” All Louis could think of was that something had to have happened to Zayn, and how soon Louis could fly out to see him and fix it.

“Y-yes-” Perrie sobbed, muffling her voice for a moment. “He broke off our engagement, Louis.”

Louis’ heart pounded, and he went quite stoic very fast. “Oh, Perrie…” he said softly. Why was she calling him, though? Of course Louis loved her, and he cared about her dearly, but Perrie had closer, better friends that would know what to say in a time like this. Ending communication with Zayn also meant that Louis didn’t talk to his family anymore, Perrie included. He didn’t quite know what to tell her. The only consolation Louis had to offer was a bitter, “Me too,” followed by a pat on the back.

“I- I don’t want to trouble you,” she choked, “but can we h-have lunch sometime? I h-heard you’ll be in L-London in the n-next few days, and I- I just want to t-talk to someone w-who knows how it f-feels-”

“Of course,” Louis said, swallowing. Someone who knows how it feels to do what? To be dumped by Zayn in favor of something bigger and better? “I’d be happy to, Pez. Just text me a time and a place.”

That’s how he ended up at a fish and chips stand in east Essex, far from the hustle of the city. They were both dressed surreptitiously, and Louis wanted to laugh when he caught their reflections in the glass window of the stand. Louis had his hood up and Perrie had wrapped a scarf around her colorful hair, and they both had sunglasses on despite how overcast the day was. Truly ridiculous, but Louis didn’t want to make light of a situation that Perrie was clearly struggling to understand. They got their food and climbed into Perrie’s car – a cute little thing, black and sporty and some name Louis couldn’t pronounce. He was never excited about cars.

“So, what happened?” Louis finally asked, poking at his fish.

Perrie paused before taking off her sunglasses and shaking her head. “I don’t know, Lou. I really don’t. I was upset at him when he quit – I thought he was turning his back on something that had opened doors for him that shouldn’t ever be shut. But he kept promising me that it would be the best move for us, that we’d spend more time together, really work things out, iron out all the creases from the years that he’d been on the road. But when it all finished, it was like things hadn’t even changed. He was spending more time with his cousins or with Shahid than me, and- and that’s fine, but it just wasn’t what I was expecting, you know?”

Louis nodded. He knew exactly what Perrie was talking about.

“I just- I’ve been thinking so much, you know? About how he loves to make promises and say things and wrap up situations in pretty packages and tie them with bows? He’s always been so good at words, and making things sound just so, but he’s never been good at fulfilling them. And I… I don’t know why.”

Louis felt his face go warm; Perrie was verbalizing every thought that Louis had over the months without Zayn, and it hurt to hear. Louis wanted to defend him, and to tell her that she was wrong, but… she wasn’t. At least not in Louis’ eyes. Zayn had made promises to him, to all of the boys, and he hadn’t fulfilled them.

“You deserve better,” Louis croaked, but at this point, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more – Perrie or himself.

\---

About this time every year, Louis couldn’t ever believe where they were in their careers. It was album release time.

They’d been dropping songs throughout the past few weeks, and Louis felt as if he were literally glowing every time he went online. He was getting praised for things that he couldn’t have ever dreamed of as an eighteen year old, shaking in his boots in front of Simon Cowell, a live audience, and several HD television cameras. People complimented his voice, his songwriting abilities, his pure talent. It was amazing. They were on an album promo tour now, the first proper one since their first album, and Louis was balanced on his knees, plaiting Harry’s hair while they watched television in their hotel room. Poor Harry was down with a nasty case of laryngitis from a lingering cold he caught on an airplane, and Louis was doing his best to soothe him.

He was about halfway down Harry’s mass of curls when a knock on their door made him jump. He spit out the hair tie he had been clutching between his teeth and called, “Come in!” The door creaked open, and Liam and Niall appeared on the other side. Louis gestured them in with a nod; he was only in a t-shirt and pants, but they’d seen him in much more indecent states before.

Niall took a seat on the other bed, but Liam stayed standing, looking nervous. “Alright, Payno?” Louis said, giving him a sideways glance. “Looking a little shifty.”

Liam cleared his throat, taking that as an invitation. “I have something to tell you lads,” he said, wringing his wrists. “I, uh, spoke to Zayn. About a week and a half ago.”

Louis felt his blood chill and he instinctively tugged on Harry’s half-braided hair, which was still wound around his fingers, causing Harry to yelp. Louis relaxed his grip a bit, but he scowled. He wasn’t angry with Liam. He wasn’t even angry with Zayn. He was just jealous. Fucking jealous as fuck. Why was Liam the first one that Zayn called?

Louis wanted to spit, but he didn’t. “What’d he have to say?” He said calmly, going back to work on Harry’s hair.

“U-uh, not a lot,” Liam said, and for a split second, Louis saw a flash of the shy kid with the big hair that used to turn bright red after everything he said, most of which came out in a whisper anyways. “He, uh, congratulated me – us – on the album. And I talked to him a lot about why he left. But, uh, he’s in a good place right now. He doesn’t do business with Shahid anymore. Um, he’s got his own stuff coming soon out, I guess. Th-that’s about it.”

Louis clenched his jaw; it was weird to be so angry about something that he was thinking less and less of with every passing day, but the hurt was still there. Why didn’t Zayn leave any messages with Liam to pass on to Louis? Did Louis really mean that little to him?

“Oh, but- one more thing,” Liam said, biting his lip. Louis felt his heart beat a little faster. Maybe Zayn wasn’t going to disappoint him.

“He’s got an interview coming out. Some kind of cover story, or something. He said they asked a lot of questions about us. I, uh, just wanted to tell you lads, in case they write something about him calling me. I didn’t want you lot to think I was doing anything shady.”

“Right,” Louis said flatly, tying off the end of Harry’s braid. “Thanks, Liam. For the honesty and all.” Niall stood up, still uncharacteristically silent, and slipped out of the room. Liam was hot on his heels.

The room was deafeningly quiet for several minutes, until a robotic voice came from Harry’s lap. “ _Ridiculous_.”

That fucking speech app. Louis wanted to laugh, but something weighed his chest down and made it impossible.

“I know, right? Did- did you see Niall’s face? It’s killing him. Zayn thinks he can just waltz into our lives whenever he likes it, you know Niall can’t handle that.” Louis said, shaking his ankle to distract him from the stinging behind his eyes.

“Lou-” Harry whispered, still quite croaky. Louis wanted to urge him to keep using the speech app, but he knew Harry wouldn’t listen anyway. Whatever he had to say must have been important – Louis couldn’t take a robot’s voice seriously. “We all know the ticking time bomb in the room just now wasn’t Niall.”

Louis blushed, rolling over to hide his face in the duvet. “So what, he called Liam and not me. Actually, I’m glad he didn’t call me. What would we have talked about? The weather? It’s fine, Harry. I’m fine. This is all fine.”

Harry rolled up next to him, putting their foreheads together so Louis could hear his whispery voice. “It’s okay if you’re jealous or sad or angry or disappointed or anything, Lou.”

“But it’s not,” Louis laughed half-heartedly, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “It happened months ago, Harry. I- I’ve moved on, mostly. It’s time to let my loyalties lie elsewhere.”

“Yeah,” Harry croaked, but the room felt heavy with all the unspoken grievances, and Louis didn’t want to bother.

Somehow, he ended up buying a copy of that interview a week later in an airport, and Louis almost instantly wished he hadn’t. Quotes about “making real music” and being genuine slashed through almost every happy memory that Louis had left of Zayn, but the worst was how he referred to the boys as “we.” It was as if Zayn was implying that they’d had a hand in deciding if Zayn left or stayed, or if he pursued a solo career or not, or if they got to stay friends or not. Louis had always been terrible about these things, paying too much attention to tabloid trash that didn’t deserve it, and it was clear that even after five years, old habits die hard.

He was cranky to begin with that day; he’d only bought the magazine because they were on a three-hour layover between flights, trying to get into L.A. Harry was also in a sour mood, still sick from a week and a half ago. Liam was pouting over Sophia, still nursing his broken heart, and Niall was snoozing in the corner of their little holding room. Louis felt like he was ready to split in half.

They’d taped an appearance on the Jonathan Ross show before they left for the States, and Louis couldn’t stop repeating one of the moments from the show over and over again in his mind.

_“Who was closest to him? In the band?” Ross had asked them. Louis could still feel the weight of the three other boys’ gazes swinging round to look straight at him._

_“I think when we were in the band, yeah probably, maybe that was me,” Louis said, “You know, I think we all kind of noticed that he wasn’t thoroughly enjoying it… and we were. You know it can be an intense job at times, and I think it got a little bit too much for him, and he wanted to be in a different place… and that’s fair enough, and he’s got his own way now.”_

Why did Louis still feel the need to defend Zayn? Why couldn’t he be honest, and say that Zayn screwed the lot of them over, broke his heart, and fucked off into oblivion? It wasn’t Louis’ job to protect him, but he was certainly acting like it. He had half a mind to call Zayn up right then and there, to let Zayn know exactly what was on his mind without apology, just like Louis wanted to in all those interviews. He grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him down the little corridor.

“Sit,” he said, but Harry just narrowed his eyes at him.

“What are you doing?” He sniffled and glared, rubbing his runny nose. “Why do I have to be dragged into it?”

Louis didn’t answer, just pulled out his phone and scrolled to the very bottom of his contact list.

“Louis,” Harry whined, and Louis was reminded that Harry was still kind of a kid, and an exhausted one at that. “I need to sleep.”

Louis felt his hands shake when he pressed his thumb into the very last contact on his list, just labeled as “Z.”

“Just hold my hand,” Louis said to Harry, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear and sliding his palm into Harry’s. “Need you.”

Harry sat up straighter, pressing his ear against the back of Louis’ phone, trying to get a clue. The phone rang six times, and Louis was worried that he wouldn’t pick up. But just before it hit voicemail, he did.

“’Lo?” A sleepy sounding voice answered.

Louis felt his heart stop.

“Zayn?” He felt his vocal cords twist up. Harry tightened his grip on Louis’ hand. “I- is that you?”

“Yeah, ‘s him,” Zayn said. “Who’s this? Sorry, don’t have the number saved.”

Louis thought he might puke. He figured he would be able to recognize Zayn’s voice if his ears were cut off. Clearly, Zayn didn’t feel the same.

“Louis,” he croaked. “Louis Tomlinson. That’s who.”

“Right,” Zayn suddenly sounded a lot more attentive, and Louis wanted to kick something. “How are you, Lou? I- I’ve been meaning to get ahold of you.”

“Have you?” Louis barked a laugh. “Pretty hard to do that when you’ve deleted my number, mate.” His stomach hurt.

“Louis… don’t be like this,” Zayn said. “You know we change our numbers and phones all the time.”

“But I’ve always saved yours!” Louis screeched, leaping up from his seat along the wall. “I have it written down and saved in my fucking wallet, just in fucking case! But I suppose you wouldn’t know to do that for me, ah? Because you were too busy thinking about going home? Or all the fun you were going to have recording R&B hooks with Naughty Boy? Because maybe it just didn’t come up when we were traveling the world together, you know? Bus fucking 1, Zayn?! I don’t have enough fingers or toes to count the amount of times you told me that it was, ‘us against the world.’ All for you to fucking leave and never speak to me again! You have no respect for me, for us Zayn, and- and- it fucking hurts!”

He sat back down against the wall, tucking his head between his knees. The boys always teased Louis about how easy it was to make him cry, but neither Zayn nor Harry would ever mention the tears sliding down Louis’ face.

Zayn was quiet, and Louis wanted to scream just to fill the silence. “Louis-” he whispered, but Louis wasn’t having it.

“Don’t bother,” Louis spluttered. “You’re going to say the same things. You needed to stop. You couldn’t do it. You didn’t like it. But I don’t care that you left the band, Zayn. I care that you left me. I thought you were going to stop being in One Direction, but I didn’t think you’d stop being my best friend.” He slumped against the wall, worn out from the one-sided conversation.

“I need to see you,” Zayn pled. “I don’t want to talk about this on the phone.”

“Bye, Zayn,” Louis said, forcing himself not to bite at the bait Zayn was giving him. “See you around.”

He hung up the phone and crumpled into Harry’s shoulder with a hiccup. Harry’s big palm covered the side of his head soothingly, and the rest of the world faded to grayscale.

\---

The break – hiatus, as Harry insisted – was nice. It was a long 18 months without steady work, but it was a blessing. He and Harry were lazy for as long as they could stand, cooking and eating their favorite foods and fucking each other until they fell into food and full-belly induced comas. They took vacations with Niall and Liam, and Louis spent a solid month with his family – the longest he had in five years. Sometimes, life felt like it did when he was a kid. He wasn’t really Louis from One Direction over that year and a half. He was just Louis.

That being said, it was great to be back.

He missed performing almost more than songwriting. Songwriting was still the best, and he’d gotten to do some of it over the break, but there was nothing like the rush of adrenaline that came with being on stage.

It was their first gig of the night, and Louis was nervous. They were well-prepared, doing the tour right this time. It was just a small handful of shows to get them back into the swing of things, heavily rehearsed and thought through to ensure their best comeback. The gigs were in intimate venues, with tickets dropping only twenty-four hours before each show. It was honest, it was low key, but it was keeping the world on the edge of their seats. It was a product of their new team, and Louis thought it was perfect. They were in London, at the Roundhouse.

The setlist was a good mix of old and new; they did a couple covers of different pop songs, and they debuted their newest single. Louis even got to play piano for a few of the tracks. It was a fantastic show, and Louis felt like he was made of carbonation by the time he got off stage. He and Niall were shouting, and Harry was taking funny photos of them while Liam sprinkled water on them. It was great to be back.

They turned the corner to head into their dressing rooms, and Louis swiveled around to grab Harry by the hand, but he was cut short when Liam stopped in his tracks. Louis bumped into his broad back, and Harry bum-rushed him, with Niall bringing up the rear. “What are you-?” Louis started, but as soon as Liam stepped to the side, he figured out exactly what was going on.

Zayn was sat on the floor in front of Harry and Louis’ dressing room, cross-legged like a child with his iPhone resting on his thigh. He looked a little scared, and Louis felt queasy.

“Zayn,” Liam said, pushing his sleeves up nervously, revealing the several new-ish tattoos that he’d acquired over the break. “We- we didn’t expect this.”

Louis felt anger rise from the soles of his feet up to the top of his head. He didn’t want to make small talk with somebody who couldn’t even call him. What did Zayn think this would do? Waiting outside their dressing room wasn’t a wonderful, loving gesture. It was equivalent to ambush. Frankly, Louis wasn’t having it. He stepped over Zayn’s knee and let himself into the dressing room, peeling off his shirt to slip on a fresh, plain one. He could hear Zayn and the three boys talking outside, but Louis didn’t feel obligated to join in. He could see Liam wrapping his arms around Zayn through the mirror’s reflection of the cracked door, and he rolled his eyes.

Liam was always quick to forgive Zayn, to take his side, to let him get away with murder. They’d even remained as friends through the break, and they’d produced a few songs together. Liam loved Zayn. Louis used to understand why.

He sat in the dressing room and scrolled through his phone for what felt like hours. In reality, it was about twenty minutes until the door finally creaked open. Louis looked up, expecting to see Harry, or even Niall, but instead, it was Zayn. He looked smaller than Louis remembered, and his hair softer, but other than that, nothing had changed.

“Louis,” Zayn said, taking a cautious half-step forward. “Can we talk?”

“You can,” Louis said coolly, “but I wouldn’t expect much of a response.”

“God, you haven’t changed,” Zayn laughed softly. Louis wanted to duct-tape his mouth shut so he’d never have to hear that laugh again.

“Seriously, though,” Zayn said, sobering up in his face. “I- I came to apologize.” Louis said nothing, continuing to stare at his phone. “I was a complete arse to you, Louis. To all of the boys, but you especially. I know Harry hates me for it, and he never hates anybody. But I’m sorry for it, more than I am sorry for anything else I’ve done.” He swallowed. “I was fucked up, Louis. That’s not an excuse, I swear. I just was. I didn’t know how to sort out the bad from my life while keeping the good. I wanted to get away from what was hurting me, so I ran away from everything without thinking about it.

“But I love you, Lou. I’ll never not love you. You don’t have to accept my apology or forgive me. I just had to tell you.” There was a long pause. “I would have told you earlier, at a better time too, I didn’t mean to crash your first gig back. I just didn’t know how to find you on your break.”

Louis felt his resolve melt, and he looked up at Zayn. Their gazes locked, and Louis felt his eyes pinch. He stood up slow and wrapped his arms around Zayn’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder. He’d missed his best friend.

Things wouldn’t be perfect, of course. It would take time. There would be a lot of tears, and it would take Louis a long while to rebuild his trust for Zayn. There was going to be a lot of catching up to do, too much for one night. They had to put in effort, especially now that Louis’ break from touring was over and Zayn’s solo career was really picking up. But they could make it work, FaceTiming each other when they could, and attending each other’s gigs on their nights off.

It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

And that was the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> yikes im emo
> 
> im thicc-liam on tumblr if ur emo too


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